Something Always There
by ryelvira
Summary: It's truly a wonder how neither of them have been given detention for how much sneaking around they've been doing, but Ruthus and Isadora barely gave a thought to it. Instead she thinks about how pretty the moon is and what the hell goes on in that brain of his. Beyond sarcasm, she'll never know. Whatever happens, maybe he'll stop calling her by that bloody stupid nickname.


Author's note: Welp. I don't know how to explain the context of this without going into an extended rant about what exactly I'm working on, and yeah. To put it bluntly, I've a huge Harry Potter world thing that I've been plotting though I've yet to get anywhere, so I've one-shotted this to try and get my writer's gears grinding. It worked. It would take me paragraphs to even explain what it's about, so I'm just going to say this. Ruthus Page and Isadora Pratt are two of the main characters in it. This is just showing what happened between them before the events of that world, just for fun, I guess.

If you like it, there's sure to be more, both in-Hogwarts and out.

Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think. ^^ -Rye

* * *

Isadora stood there, leaning against the windowsills gazing outside, lost in her thoughts. The moon hung over the lands like a guardian watching from afar, hiding behind the clouds from time to time whenever one dared to cross its path. At times, she'd think that she saw movement in the forest below, though in this kind of darkness and from her spot on the fifth floor of Hogwarts, she could never truly tell.

In truth, it was always the moments like these that made her wish she could live forever. Novels have been written about how dreadful anticipation could be, but she had always quite liked it. There was always a spark in the air as she awaited Ruthus in the same spot, something that made her stomach churn with the need to get something done. Something exciting, something electrifying. Something daring, something that made her smile.

Something magical.

Something.

Footsteps pitter-pattered on the cobblestone floor, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned, half-expecting Mrs. Norris or, even worse, that dreaded Finch that prowled the hallways for ne'er do wells like her just begging for detention. But it wasn't. Isadora exhaled. She could barely make out the shape of Ruthus' face in the dark of the night, but there it was. Like a hundred times before.

"There she stands, like a princess waiting for her prince in the dead of knight," Ruthus teased, a slight, crooked smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, please. Are fairy tales the only things that the professors read to Gryffindors?"

"Perhaps, so you'll have to dial down your book smarts if I have any chance of understanding you. None of that Goshawk or Scamander rubbish. Merlin knows how we get along."

Isadora giggled at that. "I don't even like Fantastic Beasts, prat."

"Nuh-uh. You're the Pratt,here."

"You mean bint," she said with a slight chuckle. "Gods, Page. When will you ever stop with that joke? I'd rather retake Potions than hear that joke for the millionth time."

"But then you'd never see me again. It's the only reason I'm here."

Isadora rolled her eyes, then leaned against the stone wall. "Good riddance."

"Perhaps you could marry the name off. I hear Potter's looking."

"And have him up-and-leave as soon as that Lily-bird returns his fancy? No-thank-you," she sing-songed, shaking her head as she turned her attention back to the scene before them. Friendly silence fell between them as she began to take in the surroundings again. Something flapped as it darted past the window. Such a thing might've startled Isadora years ago, but nights spent waiting had accustomed her to such things.

"I love moments like this, you know," she said.

"Like what?"

"Just this. Watching the night sky from a Hogwarts window, dreading the notion that anybody but you would discover me here. It really gives you time to think."

"Hmn," Ruthus said, nodding in agreement. "About what?" he inquired.

Isadora blinked for a few moments before turning to face him. "Things. How blue the moon is, sometimes, I guess. It seems brighter on some nights. I love that," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I never noticed," Ruthus admitted. Isadora rolled her eyes at him again.

"It's a surprise my eyes aren't at the back of my head quite yet," she teased, lifting her head as she playfully shoved Ruthus. They both laughed, then she cocked her head and stared at Ruthus from the side, suddenly serious.

"Do you ever wonder how things would be if we landed in the same house?"

"Dreadfully boring," Ruthus said immediately. "I'm not a reader, you know that."

Isadora giggled. "I'm serious, Ruthus! What-"

"And you aren't quite daring, yourself. You flee at the sight of a newt, Dora. I don't know what you'd be thinking if you joined."

She laughed harder, then slapped his shoulder. "Don't call me that! You know I hate that. What if I called you Ruth?" she threatened to Ruthus' daring expression.

"It'd be worth it if I get to call you Dora."

"Merlin, Ruth. Must you always ruin touching moments like this?"

"It's in my nature," he said proudly.

She rolled her eyes again. "Merlin," she said, then sighed. "How much easier things would be…" she began again. "We wouldn't have to sneak around at night to meet up as much. We'd have more than just Potions as a class together. All the fun we could have without having to get bad marks for meeting at night instead of studying—"

"Only a Ravenclaw could talk about studying in a touching moment like this."

She turned to face him, a wry grin on her face. "And only a Gryffindor—" she said then paused to tap his nose. Ruthus Page did not move a muscle. "Would have the gall to point that out while a bird is gushing."

"Point made, Dora." Her eyes screamed murder.

"What did I just bloody say, Page?"

"I can't help if I'm a Gryffindor."

"Excuses, excuses," she said, shaking her head. "To think I would've been a princess in need had my prince not been such a prat," she said, mocking.

"Um. You're the prat."

"Hex yourself, Page," she said, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of which," she paused for a moment, breathing in. "I'm just...curious. You could say. Have you… ever given a thought to that?"

A moment of silence too long. Isadora noticed, though didn't know what to make of it. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Being together? Marceline won't shut up about it."

"And date a Ravenclaw?" Page said with a scoff, his eyebrows raised.

Isadora snickered, though her eyes betrayed her. A look of disappointment flashed across them. "It was hypothetical, Ruthus," she said. "Marceline just won't shut up about it. She's been reading too many Muggle fairy tales. Beauty and the beast. Princess and the frog. That kind of thing. And a few… other things. I think."

"Other things?"

"A bit indecent, I can only assume. She goes on and on about how she would pay anything to see us together, though she put it much more crudely."

"Do tell."

"She insists I sneak off every other night for a shag."

"Don't act like it hasn't crossed your mind." Ruthus winked.

She rolled her eyes again. "Typical bloke," she said under her breath. "Please, I'd rather snog the wimping willow. In a dress." She shivered.

"In a dress? Merlin's beard, that's the occasion of a lifetime. Mind if I watch? To see the one and only Isadora Pratt sporting a dress is something only the stupidest of blokes would miss."

"You can watch only if you come in a dress, too," she teased.

"I wouldn't mind it," Ruthus said to her surprise. "The dress would bring out my hips."

Isadora laughed. "To see _me_ in a dress? Everyone would be there to see _you_."

"You know it. As a Gryffindor, I must always be the star of the moment."

"Never mind a star. You'd be the pearl of Wizarding London. Birds across Britain would die to be in your stead."

"Right you are, Pratt."

"I always am," Isadora gloated. "It comes with being a Ravenclaw." She tossed a tuft of hair over her shoulder and posed for a moment, hand on her hip. Ruthus began to laugh, followed by the sound of laughs of her own. Upon regaining her breath, she pushed her tongue into her cheek and snickered. "Well, Ruthus," she said with a sigh. "It's rather late, and I'm afraid I fancy a good night's sleep over you, at the moment."

"You're no beauty, yourself, luv."

"And I won't be if I don't get my bloody beauty sleep."

Ruthus smiled, then cocked his head to the side slightly. "Well, goodnight, then. I'll leave you be."

"Sleep tight, Ruthus," she said, looking up.

"All right, then. Goodbye, Is. I'll see you later," he said as he turned to leave.

Last to arrive, first to leave, never a thought as to whether it would be rude or not. _Typical Gryffindor,_ she thought, watching his figure disappear in the dark. _Only a Gryffindor, really. Not even a Slytherin would be so curt, lest they loathed you._ She smiled at the thought as she watched his figure reappear in the light of a torch down the hall, then vanish again.

She turned back to watch the scenery out the window for a few more moments before she left.

 _Is._

She repeated the nickname in her thoughts, then formed it in her lips. _Is. Is._ One breath, her left lip pulling pulled into her cheeks, then nothing else. _Is._ She mouthed it again.

 _Is._

She quite liked it. A million times better than Dora, at the very least. No… She honestly really did like the name. It suited her. Curt. Short. Not as fancy. Simple. Yet, in the 15 years of her life, never did anyone ever think to call her that.

She loved it. It was something perfect.

A smile played at her lips as she started walking back to her dorms.


End file.
